Can You Ever Really Run Away?
by Noneofthecabswouldtakeme
Summary: Harry wish's himself away to get away from a bad situation, but he realizes he may have just ended up in a worse one than before when he meets meets the boy from the diary he destroyed (this time in the flesh), Tom Riddle.
1. Chapter 1

He had thought that because last summer he had been able to scare the Dursleys into leaving him alone by mentioning his insane murder godfather, this summer would be free of them again. He had a plan already of all the ways he going to make sure he stayed out of the house so that he could pity himself and mourn Cedric. It hadn't worked how he thought it would though.

It just got worse. At the moment he was locked away in the cupboard, it wasn't his room anymore, but they liked to put him here when they were particularly angry. He guess they thought he didn't like it in here, while true it wasn't one of his favorite places it made him feel safe, well, safe for where he was. While in there he knew that someone couldn't just sneak up behind him, he knew for sure that he was alone, and didn't have to worry about someone seeing him doing something wrong. True theses had been things he believed when he was younger, but it still made him feel safe.

Harry licked the cut that as bleeding on his upper arm trying to get it to stop, and after a few minutes it did and he moved to make himself comfortable. Laying on his side he took out his wand which he always kept in the back of his pants just incase and held it with both hands to his chest.

He just wanted to be back at Hogwarts, away from the Dursleys, he wanted to be far from the dangers of voldemort, where he wasn't supposed to save the wizarding world from a dark lords, where he wasn't famous, and people didn't think he was crazy. He just wanted to be away.

He found himself drifting off to a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. Katherine had been working at the orphanage since she was 22, she was now 45 and felt quite accomplished with her work. True she hadn't been able to find a home for every child but everyone was happy there. Not that there was never bullying or things of the sort but nothing serious and it was dealt with accordingly.

It was her day off and she had been scouring over London to find a perfect gift for her husband. She had just found the perfect item. He always collected strange things, knickknacks from antique shops but since the war he hadn't been able to get anything and had even given up pieces that were made up of medal to be melted into bullets for the war.

She was making her way back home, the sun setting over the buildings, there were fewer people out at this time, and she wanted to get home before it was too dark. She tightened her scarf around her neck and turned the corner and stopped in her tracks.

There in the middle of the sidewalk was a small child curled into a tight ball. The few other people on the road gave him wide berth not wanting to be near him. She looked the kid over, he couldn't have been more than 10 years old he was so small and fragile, and he could see the blood and grime that stained his clothes and covered his skin and hair.

She wasn't innocent she knew that children were treated and dyed like this all the time, and that most people didn't even turn an eye. It didn't anger her any less than the first time she found out like things were happening in the city she grew up in.

She walked up to the kid kneeling down beside him to get a closer look at him. She placed two fingers against his neck, and breathed out a breath she hadn't known she was holding when she felt a pulse. She brushed away some of his hair from face to reveal a lightening bolt scar, which she thought strange, and a dirty face with round glasses sliding of the nose.

The boy whimpered and curled into himself more. It was then that she saw that the boy was holding something close to his chest, that looked like a stick. She looked away and started to gently shake him awake. He slowly to move, his eyes scrunching up in pain before opening them. She smiled at him brushing a few more strands of hair out of his face.

He looked at her for a few seconds confused then seemed to come to himself and started to look around. As he lifted himself up she could a bruise covering the side of the face that was covered before and frowned.

"Where," He croaked out, he seemed surprised to hear his own voice, and coughed and tried again even though it didn't help much. "Where am I?"

"London honey, here can you stand for me? I need to get you fixed up." She smiled gently at him. He looked back at her and seemed to be thinking it over, clearly not trusting her.

"I have no money."

"That's fine, I work for an orphanage this is part of my job."

"I don't go to an orphanage though. So its not part of your job."

"Its my job to help children. So come on get up, if you have the strength to argue I think you can stand." She stood offering a hard for him to take. He looked it over as if thought it would bite him, then looked put out as he took it. He winced as she helped him and stumbled before he was able to balance himself by leaning on her. She saw him slip the piece of wood he had been holding into the waist of his jeans which were too big for him but were held up by a belt before she helped guide him to the orphanage, him limping all the way there. Her gift for her husband long forgotten.


End file.
